Dark Nights & Snowball Fights
by Expanded-Mind
Summary: Continuation of my one-shot 'Cracked Ice'. Jack slowly finds that annoying Pitch is even more fun than annoying his fellow Guardians, and does so more and more often. Through the constant visits, Pitch eventually realizes that the winter brat may not be so insufferable. A series of oneshots and dribbles. No BlackIce. I'll take requests. ABANDONED.
1. Chapter 1

Since having 'talked' to Pitch, Jack had been thinking about him a lot. His story about why he had chosen to attack the Guardians after so long, though possibly a complete lie, was quite touching.

Jack had talked North into telling him about Pitch's past shortly after they had defeated him last Easter, and was truly baffled. All the good that had been Kozmotis Pitchner had long since been destroyed by fearlings. There was no humanity left in him...

Right?

Or was there something left?

Really, after being far more alone than Jack had been for more than twice as long as Jack had been alive, Jack couldn't believe that Pitch was still sane at all. So to still have some human goodness in him... He had to find out.

After spending _forever_ thinking up ideas on what he could do (really, it had taken only a few hours), Jack settled on a plan. It was simple, and he was positive it would work.

All Jack had to do was drop in and bug Pitch on a nearly-daily basis. He could keep on eye on Pitch, in case he tried to take over the world again, and learn more about the creepy, ancient spirit. And as much as he was certain Pitch would deny it, Pitch could probably use the company. If Jack were in his situation, he knew that company- even the company of his archenemy- would do him some good.

So, with a devilish smirk, Jack tumbled through the air toward the ground, spiraling around, before calling to Wind to take him to Burgess.

Jack had no idea what he was getting himself into by starting this: Both very good and very bad things would happen to both Pitch Black and himself.


	2. Chapter 2

A loud, shrill, ear-piercing whistling that had been going on for _10 minutes_ finally ticked Pitch off enough to get up out of his desk chair- well, it was really just a chair at a desk- and go to chase off whatever idiot was attempting to whistle a song in his lair. He was rather certain who it was, and his suspicions were proven to be true when he entered the largest room in his lair- the one with the cages hanging from the ceiling and his globe- and spotted the trespasser.

"Pitch! I was just looking for you! Oh, and did you know that your nightmares like Vivaldi?" Pitch paused. His anger at Jack Frost's presence was momentarily wiped from him.

"Yeeeeeeess... _You_ know _Vivaldi_?" Pitch asked incredulously. He had not expected Jack to be the slightest bit educated in- well, anything really. Jack simply doesn't strike one as an educated person at all.

Jack grinned broadly. "Sure do! And Beethoven, and Mozart, and... Oh yeah, I forgot! I was looking for you!"

Pitch rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, his annoyance returning after that momentary bout of curiosity. And, so did his drama-queen antics. "I believe that has already been established."

"Really? Huh! Well, how are you? Stalking children and scaring them going well lately?" Pitch's glare on the boy increased to the point where it may have actually caused a diabetic to have a heart attack and die.

"Yes, wonderfully," he drawled. "And how have you been doing? Frozen off anyone's toes lately? Snowed anyone in?" Much to Pitch's growing _fury_, his dry comments didn't make the boy angry at him. Rather; Jack seemed to be egged on by it.

"Snowed in a whole city in Alaska! Well, if you can even call it that. Alaska is so scarcely populated, y'know. And someone claimed their nose froze off during a snowball fight I started, but it looked fine to me."

Pitch stared at Jack, his face completely emotionless. Behind the mask, Pitch was trying to keep himself from gawking, laughing, and tearing the boy to shreds all at the same time. Jack continued to grin widely at Pitch.

Finally Pitch gave a huff-like sigh and turned away from Jack, causing Jack to silently pump his fist into the air in celebration of having 'beat' Pitch in what he considered to be similar to a staring contest.

"Just tell me what you want and leave," Pitch ordered nonchalantly as he began to walk back to his desk. He could not take much more of this.

"Oh! Sure! See, as fun as snowball fights are, occasionally, I like a little variety." 'Fair point,' Pitch thought to himself, as he paused his walking and listened. "But the Guardians will never let me goof off at their homes, not to mention with them." 'Maybe they're smarter than I thought.' "So I decided to come by here whenever I get bored!" Pitch froze. 'What?!'

"You- you decided to... _what_?" Pitch asked in a low, menacing growl. Jack wasn't phased as Pitch turned sharply and slowly stalked back toward him.

"Yeah! I mean, who wouldn't want to spend their extra time with Mr. Sunshine?" That didn't exactly help to appease Pitch's anger any.

Pitch was well aware how much trouble he would be in if he even attempted to ground Jack into the floor- there was no guarantee that he would succeed-, and that was the only reason why he was attempting to withhold his wrath. Because this boy really, really deserved to have some sense knocked into him. But, that not being an option, there wasn't really anything Pitch could do.

But then, Pitch got an idea.

"No one, I suppose. Go ahead; make yourself at home." Pitch's tone had changed to sickeningly sweet, and he had a wide, but malicious, smile covering his face. "I love company."

Now Jack was slightly uncomfortable. But he decided to ignore reason- they'd never really been good friends anyway- and go with it. His smile grew even bigger, if that was possible, and he nearly bounced.

"Sweet, thanks! Even North told me more places in the Pole that I couldn't go than could!" Pitch caught an incredulous look before it could actually make it to his face. The jolly Guardian hasn't actually welcomed the winter sprite? Well, that's _smart_, but shouldn't he have? Pitch shook it off. Who cares.

"Can I see how your nightmares are made? I've asked Sandy about his dreams, but, well, y'know, he can't actually talk." Now it was very difficult to hold back an incredulous look. He was acting like Pitch _wasn't_ his arch-enemy. 'Huh. Teenagers.'

"How about we make a deal. If you can find my personal bedroom before I catch you, I'll show you how I make nightmares. I'll even give you a minute head-start," Pitch drawled, grinning like a madman.

Jack perked up even more. Now, you would think he was going to explode from his excitement. A _game_. Oh, this was right up his alley!

"It's on! Starting now!" Jack zoomed off, and Pitch grinned. 'This will be enjoyable.'

After counting to 60, Pitch ducked into the shadows and took off after Jack. Unbeknownst to aforementioned winter spirit, Pitch had a very strong connection to his lair and, when he chose, could literally sense where Jack was in it. Any intruder or inhabitant actually; but Jack right now.

Pitch smirked when he detected Jack no where near his bedroom. And yes, even the Boogeyman has a bedroom.

After observing Jack's pattern of movement for several minutes, Pitch shadow-traveled to the room Jack would soon be entering and leaned against the wall next to the doorway. When Jack came through it, Pitch leaned forward slightly toward him and, still unnoticed, whispered, "_Boo_."

Jack spun around, but before he could lay eyes on who he knew to be Pitch, something sandy knocked him off his feet. Jack's head hit the floor hard, and his vision began to spin. 'Why didn't I think to negotiate, _You aren't allowed to kill me_ into the the deal?' Jack thought, panicking. Then, something happened that he never- _never_\- expected.

Something tickled his rib.

Within moments, Jack had discovered what people mean when they say, 'Tickled to death'. Pitch himself didn't lay a finger on Jack; but the nightmare sand under his control relentlessly tickled Jack for almost 20 whole minutes.

Eventually, the sand disappeared and left Jack alone. When he had recovered enough to stand, he found that Pitch had left him to find his own way out, and that he had a severe case of hiccups.

* * *

Somewhere else in the lair, Pitch was now sitting down at his desk once more. The difference being that now, he had a delighted grin on his face.

He _totally_ creamed Jack! A _Guardian_!

If this was how all of their meetings ended up, maybe Jack's visits wouldn't be so terrible. Seriously, how much better can it get? He just got to see _Jack Frost writhing on the floor_.

* * *

Pitch went back to his 'desk work', much happier than he had been in centuries, and Jack finally found the exit and left, much less bored than he had been earlier that morning.


	3. Chapter 3

It was _not_ supposed to end like this.

This had gone more wrong than anything he had ever attempted.

What was he supposed to do now?

He knew nothing about this kind of thing.

But he couldn't go ask for help.

The only four beings who could see him would likely kill him the moment they laid eyes on him.

How could he do this?

* * *

Flashback

* * *

"What's this one?"

"Why does that one look like a frog?"

"You're terrible at this."

"Can I try?"

One hour. The frost spirit had been nagging him for _one hour_. But it felt like an eternity.

Today was the day he had finally decided to get out all of those potions he had been collecting for centuries and put them to use.

Pitch had never thought that Jack Frost would conveniently show up.

He had promised not to tell the Guardians of Pitch's experimenting, and when a spirit breaks an oath, they pay by pain of death. Pitch wasn't worried about him doing that.

It was Jack's curiosity and seeming need to _touch_ _everything_ that concerned him.

Sure enough, he heard a loud crash come from the direction of where Jack had just been floating.

Rushing over to see what had happened, Pitch froze in horror.

Sitting on the ground in front of him, by Jack's discarded staff, was a two-year-old. A two-year-old wearing Jack's hoodie and sitting atop Jack's pants. A two-year-old with white hair and bright blue eyes.

A two-year-old Jack Frost.

* * *

Flashback over

* * *

Pitch was panicking. Hysterical. On the verge of a nervous breakdown.

There was a two-year-old in his care. And not just any two-year-old: Jack Frost. The greatest prankster in existence. In history!

And Pitch neither knew what had happened, nor did he know of any way to get Jack back to his original age.

He couldn't just continue to stand there and stare, horrified, at the toddler.

But what should he do?

He was Pitch Black. The Boogeyman. The Nightmare King. He terrified children. Gave them nightmares.

He didn't know how to take care of them!

"Dada!"

Pitch's eyes widened, and his gaze snapped down to the broadly grinning young child.

"Dada!" the young Jack Frost repeated, clapping his hands. Well, sort of.

He was tangled up in his now far too large hoodie, so he really just squirmed.

Pitch was furious. Dada? _Dada_?

"Up, Dada! Up!"

He wanted Pitch to pick him up.

With a sigh reminiscent of that of a stressed parent, Pitch strode over and picked the toddler up. Maybe complying would shut him up. He balanced the boy on his hip, and surveyed the damage.

Every vial, jar, and box all around was smashed. How had Jack even managed to cause such destruction?

A small giggle brought his attention back to the little child, who had grabbed two fistfuls of Pitch's cloak and now had his face happily buried in Pitch's side.

Pitch was completely torn.

Half of him wanted to throw the little kid out into a snowdrift. He'd be in his element and presumably happy.

Or Pitch could try to watch Jack. Attempt to care for a toddler, and search for a cure.

Why he was even considering helping the brat he didn't understand. An angry frown settled on his face as he recalled that it was Jack's fault that he was cowering in his lair right now, and not ruling the world in fear.

Without thinking further, Pitch grabbed the boy's pants–his hoodie was like swaddling for him, it was so much bigger than he. The pants didn't stay on at all–and his staff, and promptly commanded the shadows to take him to the exit of his lair.

Once there, Pitch walked to the nearest patch of snow and dropped the two items in it. He then proceeded to pluck the clinging child off his robe and drop him in the snow as well.

But just as he turned and began to walk back to his lair, Pitch heard a noise that made him stop, and stiffen.

A sniffle.

A sniffle that then turned into tears, wails, and cries.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Pitch had turned around and gone back to the snowdrift.

He picked Jack up and pulled him into his chest, murmuring soothing words and running circles on his back.

Soon, the cries turned back to sniffles, which turned into hiccups, until the boy fell silent. Asleep, in the Nightmare King's arms.

Pitch stared at the toddler, at a complete loss of words.

Where had he learned to do that?

He had no idea.

Well, now the boy had really defied all logic. Sleeping in the Boogeyman's arms? He was crazy.

But crazy or not, Pitch realized that he was stuck with the toddler. Jack wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Karma really does hate me."

* * *

It had taken him nearly an hour to chase off the nightmares trying to give Jack a nightmare–though he wasn't really sure why he was doing so–, and he was now trying to settle the young, sleeping child into a bed.

Miraculously, he had managed to find a vacant room in his lair that slightly resembled a nursery.

With the addition of a few pieces of furniture, Pitch was now rather certain that this room was suitable for the boy.

After several minutes of trying to untangle Jack from his robes without awaking the toddler, he finally succeeded.

To his dismay, however, Jack immediately started grasping for something else to hold, since the fabric of Pitch's robe was gone.

He considered giving Jack his staff, but decided it was too big.

Then an idea struck him. Pitch used a significant amount of his remaining power to create a small, rather solid stuffed horse from his nightmare sand.

Reluctantly–nervously, though he'd never admit it–Pitch slowly extended his arm, reaching the horse toy toward Jack. Jack eagerly clutched it to his chest the moment he felt it on his fingertips.

Pitch sucked in his breath, hoping desperately that the toy didn't give Jack nightmares. Much to his relief, it didn't.

Being so deep in Pitch's lair meant that none of Sandman's sweet dreams would reach Jack either, but one dreamless sleep wouldn't be that catastrophic for him.

Confident that Jack was now fast asleep with his new toy, Pitch quickly stole back to the room where this had begun.

His potions were still laying about, some smashed by Jack, and others just as he had placed them.

Pitch sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. Very few things could bother him nowadays enough to stress him; but this definitely made the list.

He had a lot to think about.

* * *

As his tiny blue eyes slowly fluttered open and closed, Jack noticed that he was holding something.

Looking down with a curious, inquisitive expression that only a two-year-old can pull off, his face instantly broke into a beaming smile when he saw the black horse he was cradling.

He didn't have any idea where his new friend had come from, but he, quite frankly, didn't care.

"Charcoal," he stated happily. With his baby drawl, it came out more like "Chaw-cowl," but still.

It only took him a moment to decide that he wasn't tired anymore, and that he wanted to explore.

So Jack pulled himself up to his feet–tried to pull himself up to his feet.

Looking down, Jack made an appalled squeak at the sight of his hoodie.

He was completely entangled in it, and couldn't move.

With what sounded like a mouse's battle cry, Jack began to thrash, squirm and dig against the far-too-large hoodie.

After a minute or two, he finally succeeded in untangling himself from the dark blue fabric.

Of course, he took no notice of the fact that he now wore no clothes. He was simply pleased to be free to move as he'd like.

Grabbing Charcoal, he eagerly slid off the side of the bed and to the floor with a thump.

Sadly, it had not occurred to Pitch to put Jack in a crib. That still probably wouldn't have held him, but at least it would've hindered the little toddler.

Eagerly, Jack began to totter across the floor, hugging Charcoal to his self and hurrying toward the door.

Unluckily for him–though it was very fortunate for Pitch–, a nightmare had been spying on the child.

Its intentions had been to harm Jack, but now that the child was leaving his 'cage', as the nightmare viewed the room Pitch had made him, it began to panic.

The nightmare dashed through the shadows to warn its master of the boy's movements just as Jack exited through the doorway.

* * *

It was so shiny! And pretty! And he wanted to touch it soooo bad!

Jack reached, and he reached, and he reached... but thank goodness, the sword he had come across was lying on a tabletop that was too tall for him to reach.

Instead, the frustrated toddler sat down and began to think.

Most toddlers would've simply started balling their eyes out, but not Jack.

No, Jack was plotting a different way to reach his prize. He was plotting in a manner far too old for his new age. In fact, if all toddlers were smart as he, the world would have ended by now.

He finally had the idea to climb the chair, and then get onto the table, and was proceeding to do so, when he heard a sound come from behind him.

Being an ever-curious toddler, he turned around to find... Darn. He'd been found out.

Pitch was standing behind him. The nightmare had alerted him of Jack's travels, and Pitch had chased him down.

When he finally found Jack, however, Pitch let out a strangled sound of horror, amusement, and misery, all wrapped together into one.

Because there was a stark naked toddler trying to reach one of his favorite katanas.

He had seen many things in his many days, but this, Pitch had never even dreamt of.

With a sigh that clearly said, "I can't believe I'm actually doing this," Pitch walked over and picked up a squirming and whining–and let's not forget naked–Jack Frost.

Pitch beckoned a nightmare and ordered them to go find something that Jack could wear–he was _not_ dealing with a naked Jack Frost any longer than was absolutely necessary–, and mentally cursed the tiny sliver of goodness in him that wouldn't allow him to abandon an infant.

* * *

It took the nightmare nearly an hour to come back to Pitch's Lair, and in that time Jack had nearly managed to drive Pitch insane.

When Pitch saw the approaching beast, he cried out, "Hallelujah! I'm saved!" and scurried over to grab the bag from the horse's mouth.

Peering inside, Pitch was delighted to find that the nightmare had taken it upon itself to steal more than just baby clothes.

There were diapers, some toy blocks, two pairs of ice blue baby clothing, and an actual blanket.

Thanking the nightmare profusely, Pitch hurried back to where he had momentarily left Jack playing with his stuffed animal nightmare.

Pitch then proceeded to–after much struggling–put a onesie on Jack.

Though Pitch guessed him to be two, he was hardly a 1"2'. He was pitifully tiny.

After finishing with the clothing [and putting on a diaper, but for Pitch's sake, we won't mention that], he let Jack play with the toy blocks for an hour, before Pitch decided that it was far past time for Jack to take a nap.

"Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Jack screamed, thrashing and kicking with every ounce of strength in his tiny body, fighting as Pitch tried to pick him up to take him to bed.

"It's–just–a–nap–!" Pitch exclaimed, his temper flaring. "CALM DOWN OR I'LL ABANDON YOU IN A DESERT!"

That shut the boy up, and allowed a very disgruntled Pitch Black to carry Jack back to his 'room' without further issue.

The next problem came when Pitch had successfully laid the boy in his bed.

"P-p-p-pitch?" Jack seemed to have a problem saying the letter 'p'.

"Interesting," Pitch thought. "Yes, Jack?" he reluctantly replied aloud.

"Story? P-p-please?"

Oh no. "Say no! Say no! Ignore how adorable his little eyes are! Dang, that should be illegal! Aaahh! Stoooop!" Pitch's mind screamed. But aloud, he said–as his mind screamed that he must be possessed by a Guardian or something–, "Very well."

And so Pitch read Jack one of Grimm's fairytales, leaving the kid screaming. Oh, and he gave him a lovely nightmare about the story, too. Just out of spite of somehow being suckered into all of this.

But as Fate had to have it–Pitch had pissed him off before–Pitch couldn't stand the screaming for very long. The nightmare was clearly of good construction... but Pitch had never been around a screaming child for this long before. After about half an hour–"Does the kid need to breathe? ... Well, actually, maybe he doesn't..."–Pitch angrily stormed back into the boy's 'room'.

The moment he lifted the boy from the blankets, Jack latched onto Pitch's robe with one arm. His other arm was desperately clutching Charcoal.

It took Pitch nearly two hours to manage to calm the boy–"My job is to make them scream! Not make them stop!"–, but once Jack stopped crying, the toddler fell to sleep moments later.

He was carefully untangled from Pitch's robe and laid, still clutching Charcoal, back on his bed, and wrapped in blankets.

Pitch found himself smiling slightly at the adorable form of the sleeping sprite before he departed the room.

* * *

"Pitch?"

Pitch had been working on a vague concept for a new form of fearling, but quickly turned around when he heard the husky voice.

"Oh, thank the moon! It wore off!" Pitch exclaimed before passing out from relief at the sight of the now teenager Jack Frost.

Jack stared at him for a moment before turning around and leaving.

Sadly, Jack remembered every second of being a toddler. He had planned on being brave enough to overcome his embarrassment and apologize to Pitch for the inconvenience...

But that courage was gone, and he was out of there.

* * *

Hidden from sight in the pocket of Jack's hoodie as he flew over the forest of Burgess, there was carefully stashed a black stuffed nightmare.


	4. Chapter 4

Bright. It was waaaaay too bright.

Pitch let out a whining moan. Prying his eyes open, he realized that he had fallen asleep, slumped against a wall in the main cavern of his lair. Odd. He didn't usually sleep.

Oh yes. And what in the world was making his lair so bright? It was brighter in there than it was in some parts of the world at high noon!

Pulling himself off the wall that had been supporting him, Pitch stared around at his surroundings. His face was a mix of extreme astonishment and horror.

There was bright, _colorful_ _light_ _everywhere_! And it _moved_!

Snapping out of his state of shock, Pitch cautiously began to walk forward. Strangely enough, though annoying to his eyes, the light wasn't burning Pitch.

These small neon blue, yellow, red, pink, green, white, orange, and purple dots were spinning and hopping around on everything!

Pitch lunged at one, trying to catch it, but it somehow evaded him. How? Pitch had been certain his aim was true!

He continued to slowly make his way through the cavern of his lair, walking below the cages. He looked all around himself, and saw that there were little lights on literally everything.

It wasn't until Pitch had nearly reached the center of this enormous room that he noticed something else very... strange.

Sitting atop his globe of belief was a round, silver ball, practically burning with the light dots. It was slowly spinning, too.

What was this _thing_, and how had it gotten into his lair? And on top of his globe, of all places.

That was when Pitch finally spotted the small piece of white paper laying on the ground by the base of his globe.

Quickly, he strode over, stooped, and picked up the note.

As he read it, his face quickly twisted into shock–and then white hot fury.

_Dear Pitch,_

_How are you? I hope you're doing okay. You've been sleeping a lot lately, which is kinda strange for you._

How would anyone know that?!

_Oh yeah! It's me, Jack._

Of course. The brat had been spying on him. Pitch growled, mentally swearing he'd get his revenge. And he didn't even know half of it yet.

_So, I'm sure you're wondering about the new decor I've donated to your lair. See, I really thought it needed work, so I asked Jamie if he had any ideas. You remember Jamie, right?_

Of course he remembered the twit who caused his takeover of the world to fail! How foolish was Jack? Actually, he didn't want to know the answer to that question.

_Jaime had the greatest idea ever! It cost him all the money he had had saved up, though, so you totally owe him. Anyway, he thought to get you a disco ball!_

A what?

_It's this awesome human contraption that spins and shines bright, colored little lights._

That ball was causing all of this?!

_So yeah! You can thank me later!_

_Sincerely,_

_Jack Frost_

Pitch was furious. He quickly turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.

He reappeared a few minutes later, holding a large rock in one hand. He pulled back his arm, and threw the rock at the disco ball with all his strength.

It hit the shining ball straight in its center, smashing it into hundreds of pieces which then flew to the floor on the other side of the globe from where Pitch was standing.

"Good riddance."

* * *

The next morning, Pitch was just finishing his work on designing a new type of nightmare. Very pleased with himself, he decided to take a break.

He slowly meandered around in the main cavern of his lair, eventually making his way to his globe.

His rather peaceful expression turned to a hateful snarl when he saw the little golden lights, reminded once again of all the Guardians had that he didn't.

And, for some reason, he decided that now was the perfect time to begin ranting.

"Those utter imbeciles! They are given all of these believers. All of these beautiful little lights. And do they go out and enjoy it? Enjoy being seen? Interact with their faithful little children? No!

"They sit inside their respective homes and busy themselves with bribery! They _bribe_ those children into believing! And then they don't even leave to meet the children and appreciate it!

"Why, they almost try to be invisible! They never allow children to catch a glimpse of them!

"And then they deny me the right to be seen at all!

"Not all of us have cheerful attributes! Yes, I would much rather see all of the children turned into fearlings and have them destroy this useless planet. But still!

"I'm not asking for that, am I? No! I just want to be seen! To not be a ghost! How can they possibly justify denying me that?

"Because I scare children? There are thousands of children who love to be terrified! Certainly, I find it annoying, but don't they prove anything?

"Or when a child gets scared of going into the dark forest by themselves, thus saving themselves from being eaten by wolves?! Now, I do enjoy the fear a child makes much more when they are about to be eaten... And their screams during the process are delightful...

"What I bring is important! It is embraced! Encouraged by parents!

"Why must I be doomed to be less than those foolish Guardians for all of eternity?! To only believed in for a few minutes after seeing a horror film, or when in a haunted house?

"Is it too much to ask for, just to be seen?! To be known?! To have what I want?! I try far harder than any of them to get what I want! Why must it always be out of my reach?

"I am meant to be feared! And how can I be feared when I am INVISIBLE?!

"They know what it is like now! To not even exist! To be walked through! Why are they still so opposed to allowing me to not have to live in that? Fear is needed! They must accept that–"

Pitch's rant was cut short as something bumped against his foot and he jumped several feet in the air.

Now, the Nightmare King does _not_ scream. Luckily. That would have been very embarrassing.

Looking down sharply after he landed back on solid ground. Pitch blinked several times.

On the floor at his feet was the strangest thing Pitch had ever seen.

It was bright red, and moving, on what appeared to be wheels. Four little wheels. Actually, it slightly resembled those things humans used to get around now, instead of horses. _Don't_ get him started on those _horrific_ machines adults had _replaced_ such _beautiful_ animals with...

What in the world?!

He watched the thing begin to slowly maneuver around his feet, before zipping off into another part of his lair.

Then, just as he was wondering what this creature could possibly be, Pitch saw _him_.

Jack Frost was hanging onto one of the cages in Pitch's Lair, not even looking at Pitch. His attention was fixed on the creature.

In his hands Jack held a strange black box. After staring at the strange sight for several moments, Pitch decided that Jack must have brought in that creature, just as he had brought the globe of light the day before.

So, Pitch chased down the 'creature': A toy car. After half an hour of running, and being outmaneuvered by the thing multiple times, Pitch caught it and threw it against a wall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces.

Pleased by the satisfying destruction, the removal of that annoying little pain, and Jack Frost's gasp of horror, Pitch left to go back to his scheming.

* * *

Every day for the next two weeks, Jack brought a new toy to torture Pitch with.

One day, there were several thousand brightly colored helium balloons Pitch had to pop and dispose of. Though he thought they were some form of sorcery, not understanding what a balloon is. It took him forever to discover that they could be reduced to strange pieces when you poked it with something sharp. He had thought them to be more gas-like in composition.

Another time, it was a radio loudly playing Justin Beiber. Jack didn't stick around to see Pitch's reaction that day, wanting to save his own hearing. Pitch himself ended up having nightmares about that horrid sound never turning off. Not that he'd admit he had nightmares.

Pitch's least favorite day by far was when Jack covered everything in pink sparkles. There was nothing to break, and no way to get rid of them! Luckily, a storm blew in that day. Whereas normally the flooding problem in his lair was beyond annoying, Pitch found it very useful then. It washed almost all of the horrendous stuff away.

After the two weeks, Pitch's Lair was a toy graveyard. There were smashed bits of toys, electronics, and much more littering the ground everywhere.

The only reason Jack stopped this particular escapade was that Pitch had managed to get his hands on some hot pink hair dye and threatened to use it on Jack, should he catch him bringing any more toys.

Jack was daring, but he wasn't stupid.


End file.
